


Wheels in the Snow

by mooseholmes



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M, no powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4042057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooseholmes/pseuds/mooseholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has some trouble in the snow, and a surprise rescuer shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wheels in the Snow

                “Goddammit!”

                Charles tried rotating the wheels again but to no avail. Raven had specifically warned him that morning NOT to go out until she got home. It didn’t matter that there were no more biscuits in the house, she could pick them up on her way home.

                “Nobody lives around Westchester, when you get stuck there’s going to be nobody near you and you’ll die of hypothermia,” Raven had said while making breakfast that morning. Charles had opened his mouth to protest, but she’d turned around with narrow eyes and a spatula pointed right at his forehead. “If you try and tell me that it’s ‘only a short distance to the store’ and you’ll be ‘right back, it’ll be no trouble at all’, I’ll personally tie you to the door on the top floor of this house, Charles. It is the middle of December and there is a foot of snow on the ground, you’re not going anywhere.”

                She’d set him up with a cozy blanket and a book in front of the fireplace before leaving for work. He’d even given her a little smile and wave.

                Charles wished he would just listen to his sister sometimes.

                The good thing – he had his biscuits! The bad thing – his wheelchair was stuck in a hole covered by the snow and all he had was his thick coat and biscuits. Charles’s phone had gone flying through the air and landed just beyond the 4-foot reach he had from his wheelchair, so he couldn’t even call 911. Calling Raven would be his last resort, he wouldn’t be able to bear hearing all the ‘I told you so Charles!’ and ‘This is why you need to listen to me more”s.

                He looked up. The snow was slowly beginning to fall, and while they looked beautiful on the tips of his uncovered fingers, Charles knew he wasn’t going to be able to feel them if he was out here for much longer. His soft brown hair was well covered by a woolen hat Hank, his sister’s boyfriend, had knitted for him last Christmas. It was incredibly efficient – Charles made a mental note to thank him later.

                Before that, however, he’d have to make it home.

~

                Two hours later, half of Charles’s biscuits had disappeared, having been either eaten or dropped from numb digits. He tried moving his wheelchair again but only managed to move the wheels an inch before hitting a patch of packed snow. He huffed and sat back, wondering if by some miraculous reason Raven would come home early. She never did, he knew, but it was always worth a shot.

                Charles rubbed his arms furiously, his teeth chattering louder than he wanted them to. The main road was about a mile behind him, and all that surrounded him were trees. Very large and green pine trees that never lost their needles and therefore wouldn’t let anyone on the other side of them see a helpless man in a wheelchair and come to his rescue. He was really beginning to feel like the proverbial “damsel in distress”.

                A noise caught Charles’s attention. His head swiveled sharply to the tree on his left, eyes squinting as he tried to make out the source of the noise. The lower branches shook soundly, and just as Charles was about to throw himself on the ground in an attempt to evade a bear, a very brown and very small squirrel landed on the ground. It eyed Charles, nose twitching and head tilting to the left. He wondered why it had arrived out of the blue when he realized that he was still holding his biscuits. Charles stared back at the squirrel, deciding whether to part with the biscuits or fight the animal in an attempt to keep them.

                It crept forward, paws making barely a sound on the fallen snow. Charles hesitated before extending his arm, biscuit in hand. He unwillingly forced his hand lower to the ground, and the squirrel cautiously crept to a halt an inch away from him. When Charles didn’t move, it bit half the biscuit off and leapt back to eat its way through it. Satisfied with the passiveness he showed, the squirrel deftly dove right into Charles’s hand, curled into a small nest of fur, and happily nibbled on the biscuits it now owned.

Charles chuckled and lifted his hand back into his lap. “Well then, it seems I’ve made myself a friend,” he said, softly scratching the animal’s ears. “But unless you’re secretly a human come to my aid on the disguise of a squirrel, I’m afraid we’re both stuck out here. Well, I suppose _you’re_ not really stuck, you’re happy to come and go as you please. With working legs. What a joy that must be.”

Another disturbance caught his attention, this time from behind him. Afraid of moving the small animal in his lap, Charles slowly and carefully turned his body around to see what it was. He silently prayed that it wasn’t a large and ferocious bear come to eat him and his squirrel, but to his surprise it was – a person?

From the lack of long blonde hair and an angry scowl, he knew it wasn’t Raven. The man – he could tell from this distance that it was at the very least a man – was quite tall and bundled up in a ridiculously large coat and an even more ridiculous gray scarf that seemed to take up the better part of him. The closer he got, the more Charles could make out his facial features, or at least those that weren’t covered up by that blasted scarf. He had a sharp nose, very well-defined cheekbones, and chestnut hair that could not have been set more perfectly. His eyes, once Charles could see them, were a beautiful shade of blue. Overall, Charles thought he was a very handsome specimen and hoped that those cheekbones would be the ones to rescue him.

As the stranger’s shoulders came marching through the snow towards him, Charles exclaimed softly, “Oh my, squirrel, it seems like you’re a good luck charm after all.”

The stranger stopped and yanked his scarf down. “I’m sorry, but did you just call me a squirrel?”

Charles gaped. German? Sounded German. “Oh sorry no, I’ve managed to befriend a squirrel with some biscuits, and it’s currently napping in my lap.”

To his surprise, the stranger grinned. “I see. And did this squirrel get stuck outside in the snow with you?”

“Well I wouldn’t say he got stuck, more ‘hopped along for the ride’. Or lack of it. Because I am. Stuck, that is.” Charles always had a way with words.

“I see,” he repeated. “Do you need a hand? How far off do you live?”

“My word, you don’t suppose you _could_ help me back, do you? I live less than a mile off, over in that house you might’ve seen by the road.”

“The mansion? You live there?” the stranger exclaimed. “It doesn’t seem too far off, I’ll take you there, Mr…?”

“Charles Xavier, but please, call me Charles,” he said. “And you are?”

“Erik, Erik Lehnsherr,” he grunted as he picked Charles up. “You’re freezing, how long have you been out here?!”

“Two hours? I’ve completely lost track of time,” Charles said, resting his head on Erik’s very firm and very warm chest. He checked to make sure his squirrel was nicely tucked in before pressing further into the miracle of heat and warmth that was Erik.

Erik shook his head. “Well Charles, you can tell me all about it once you’re nice and warm in front of a toasty fire.”

“Erik, you’re practically like an oven yourself, it’s not going to be that hard.”

Erik laughed and trudged forward, the wheelchair sitting forgotten behind them.


End file.
